Kool Keith - Harper’s Ferry (Allston, MA; Nov. 30, 2007)

It’s 11:30 and Kool Keith is nowhere to be seen.  I ran here after parking my car, thinking I’d missed the beginning of a set that was supposed to start at 11. After eavesdropping on a conversation between the promoter and the guy working the soundboard, it’s clear that no one has a clue where Keith might be.

I can’t say that I am at all surprised.

We’re on our second “warmup” DJ, and I’m having the most fun watching the crowd and SportsCenter highlights on the requisite plasma above the bar. At 29 years, I’m probably the oldest guy here, after the shit-faced 50-year-old dancing with the girl who looks to have been born in the mid-80’s.

I hope the show starts soon.

After listening to the fifth person argue with the bouncer about getting a refund because Keith seems to be a no-show, I notice KutMasta Kurt, Kool Keith’s DJ, come on stage, signaling hope that the crowd may actually get what they paid for.  About 30 minutes later, Keith takes the stage, and it’s amazing . . . until Kurt’s mixer shits the bed, and we’re left with Keith rhyming without a beat.  He does a good job freestyling, talking about Boston and the Red Sox, but without the music, I start to realize that Keith got the party started well before he took the stage....

I wasn’t even close to keeping a set list, but he pulled out jams from throughout his career: starting as early as “Ease Back” from his Ultramagnetic days, to “Sly We Fly” off of Sexstyle, “You Live at Home with Your Mom” from Dr. Doom, “ I Don’t Believe You” from 2000’s Matthew and “Livin’ Astro” off the amazing Black Elvis album.  Finally, he got into the really good stuff: a bunch of songs from the album that got me hooked, Dr. Octagon.  I was really enjoying the show until the douchebag next to me with the tribal arm band tattoo started yelling “I’m DESTRUCTIVE” over and over again.  He was obviously trying to get Keith to play the song of the same name, but dude, after yelling it repeatedly for 5 minutes, you just seem like a hyper teenager who forgot to take his Ritalin and broke into his parents’ liquor cabinet.

At this point, the crowd and the concert turned into a real shit show. Most of the people had left, leaving just the few who were too hammered to leave . . . jumping up and down, flailing their arms and smacking people.  I overheard one girl ask a guy to please stop shoving and hitting her, that she just wanted to see the show. I won’t print his response, except to say: Pure Class.

I don’t know if the club was telling them to wrap it up, but Keith’s set then hit fast forward and he spent about 10 to 20 seconds per track as he blitzed through his songs, sloppily delivering the lyrics that once immortalized him as one of rap’s best MCs.

While it was a thrill to see one of the greats, next time I’ll avoid the slop and stay home listening to the albums. 

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